


Dirty Dancer

by ZarryFTZouis



Series: Chrissy's Oneshots [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Gay Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn With Plot, Pornstar Zayn, Prostitute Niall, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Stripper Niall, ZAYN'S A BLEEDING PORNSTAR WHATCHA EXPECT?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:19:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1603253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall's hips don't lie.</p><p>(Or where Zayn is a world-famous pornstar who gets really drunk at the bar Niall works at and buys Niall for the night, the bar's best stripper; not necessarily in that order)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my least favourite Ohian, aka Zoe.  
> I know nothing about strippers so if anything is incorrect, I apologize.
> 
> Titled after Enrique Iglesias' "Dirty Dancer".

"Three, two - no Payne. You were off-beat by half a beat!"

The petite blonde, whose name is Perrie and her eyes are strongly defined by heavily-drawn eyeliner and bold eye makeup corrects one of her... initiates.

At the young age of twenty-three, Perrie has got herself the job of being the manager for Dancing Foxes, London's notorious bar/strip club when her aunt died from an unknown illness. Since the deceased woman had no other relative, other than Perrie's mum, who was a rich and renowned psychiatrist, Perrie inherited the club.

When her mum found out, she wanted to abolish the stripping section of the club so it'll just be a bar but Perrie, like the business woman she was, had other ideas.

After two years of training at the dancing studio, Perrie became an amateur stripper and after half-year of renovation, she re-opened the bar, then-called Tropical Pleasures. As the new owner-slash-manager, she re-named the bar/club Dancing Foxes. Foxes are known for their cunning ways, aren't they?

Now, Perrie also realised she needed new dancers so after the demo performances, she only kept Danielle Peazer, a curly haired angelic dancer with charms, who was definitely the best dancer. The others? They had to pack.

She decided to train some newbies so she handed out (well, she didn't do it herself, she'd people to do stuff for her) at the local colleges and sure enough, copious desperate, barely-legal applicants arrived at her doorstep. She hand-selected her new recruits, heavily determined by the possible dancer's physique and their looks, of course.

Now, after three weeks, she feels like she should've kept some other dancers than Peazer because it's too much work and to top that up, a lot of people decided to pay Dancing Foxes a visit. What can they say, a bar with nice price for food and fifty quids per person for a show afterward is too much to just pass by.

"Sorry, Miss Edwards," Liam Payne, one of the new recruits, eighteen, lowers his hat apologetically. He's majoring in physiology of canines and apparently, his parents left Liam with only enough money to pay for the first two years of college. Since he was friends with Peazer, she recommended stripping and now, he's struggling hard.

"You also got the step wrong. Right after you spin around the pole-" Perrie does a demonstration, graceful like a tiger. "-you land on the toes of your right foot-" she does exactly that, "-  _then_ you throw your arm out. Try again."

Three hours of fruitless rehearsals with the new recruits, Perrie opens herself a bottle of cheap whiskey when the door opens. Now, it's only quarter to four so it's not likely to be a drinker.

The newcomer is quite short, maybe five-eight with obviously dyed-blond hair with light brown roots. His crystalline blue eyes hold a smouldering, seductive gaze in them.

"The bar doesn't open for another hour and fifteen minutes," Perrie informs the blond with exasperation.

"Oh, I'm not here for pints, lassie," he speaks with a (thankfully) distinguishable Irish brogue. "I'm here to audition."

 

_Two months later_

 

"You're fucking ridiculous, Malik!" Louis Tomlinson, also known as Zayn's best friend and manager slaps the darker skinned lad's back. "It's two in the bleeding morning,  _and_ you have a naked photoshoot tomorrow and you want  _this_?"

"Tomlinson," three syllables and it's rather blatant the other bloke is quite pissed, even though they just arrived at the bar. They sound horrible slurred, like he's half-asleep or summat. "I'm a professional. And by the way, the photoshoot is this morning, not tomorrow now."

"Fuck you, Malik," the shorter, blue-eyed man shakes his head in defeat. "Now, will you please tell me what the fuck we're doing at a cheap strip club, with the stupid paparazzi surrounding this building?"

"Because even a global pornstar like me needs a little... getaway sometimes. Ugh, I swear, if I don't get Styles for the photoshoot in, I dunno, four hours, I'm never going to pose for them ever again." He takes his cigarette case out of his leather jacket and fishes out a lighter from the other. Expertly, he balances the fag between his lips and lights the end. Louis only narrows his eyes at the action.

"Sirs, no smoking in the building." A petite brunet wearing a bartender's uniform - black vest, white dress shirt and black slacks, not to mention being behind the counter - tells Zayn. He flicks the ember at the other, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you know who I am?" There's choking amount of sexual purr interspersed with the star's words. "If you don't, you're a bloody idiot."

"I'm pretty sure anyone who owns the Net knows who you are, sir," there's no denying the bartender - Jake, Zayn reads his nametag - is quite aroused. "What are you doing here?"

"Let's see... I live in London, this place is at the centre of this city and I need a good entertainment..." Jake gulps audibly. "I think you know where I'm getting at, mate."

"You're in luck. We've Lucky Ni tonight."

"That's a really stupid sounding stage name," Louis contributes his opinion. "Does he do private shows?"

"Only on weekdays," Jake tells them. "But you need to book-"

"I'm Zayn fucking Malik, you little shit," Zayn leans over the counter and has the poor lad by his collar. "I'm a well-known actor. If I can't have this Lucky Ni guy tonight, I'll make sure your place goes down."

"There's no need for commotion!" 

Zayn whips his head around. Who dares raise her voice at  _the_ Zayn Malik?

The girl is small, barely five-six with platinum blond hair and purple-pink ends. Her eyes are framed by black eyeliner and heavy eye makeup. Her twin blue orbs are burning with fury, and it's quite obvious she's the owner.

"I'm sorry about Jake, Mr Malik. He's new and doesn't do well under pressure," the blonde apologises, shooting the Jake guy a look that says 'you're fired.' "Is there anything you wanted? You could've given us a call and prepared us..."

"No need to fire him. He told me about... Lucky Ni?" Zayn raises his brow at the girl. "I was wondering if I could book him for tonight."

"Of course you can! But first, let me get you some drinks." She motions at Jake to prepare the glasses. 

Half-hour later, Zayn is really drunk. Like, really, really drunk he can barely stand on his own. Louis, his good friend Louis whose eyes are narrowed more than what Zayn thought possible, keeps glancing at the increasing number of empty glasses. Right now, the count is at thirteen.

"I remember when I first started my career," there's a small cluster of people around Zayn now. Who in right mind wouldn't want to be close to a pornstar? He's the good looks and if you get lucky, you'll have a shag of your life. "I was nineteen and I got a call from my company because of the photoshoot I'd earlier that week. I was a swimwear model, you see? It was in my job description to be half-naked for the cameras and for whatever the reason, this adult shop franchise owner looked at my shoots. Apparently, I have  _the look_." Couple girls around Zayn are giggling, their eyes caked with makeup. "Anyways, I had a meeting with the assistant manager the same week. God, it was really awkward, since they asked my sexual preference and all that... And to answer your question, Pippa-"

" _Piper_ ," the girl closest to Zayn hisses out.

"I am bisexual. Now-"

"Is my arse summoned to you?"

Zayn snaps his head up, his eyes glazed from alcohol. The guy has an Irish accent,  _cute_ , and shame he's fully dressed.

Well,  _dressed._

The Irishman is clad in tight shiny green shorts that hug his arse perfectly. There's a band (holy shit, is he wearing a garter belt?) connecting the bottom hems of the trousers, down to around his ankle. He's wearing nothing else. Not even proper shoes. He's fucking barefeet.

Now his body... Zayn has a share of fit lovers (he is one of the most famous pornstars in the world, isn't he?) but this Lucky Ni guy is totally different. There's a well-endowed package of abs, lightly dusted by happy trail, same with his chest. Normally, chest hair is a turn-off for Zayn. Too hard for nipple play.

"I take it you're Lucky Ni?"

"The one and only." Blue eyes meet dark amber, both holding promising seductive undertone.

The blond (Lucky Ni) leads Zayn up to his room, which is locate at the second floor of the club. Once they're in the room, Zayn feels his jaw hits the ground.

There's a stripping pole (both vertical and horizontal) but there are also other things, like a king-sized bed and a drawer. Zayn swears he saw something glinting in half-light from the slightly open drawer.

Ni strides over to the pole, the vertical one, and slings his leg over it, spinning around the metal pole swiftly. The way the dancer's thigh wraps itself around the metal is just so cruel to Zayn. (He can feel his "little him" getting excited already) He spins around the damn thing a couple times before throwing Zayn a haughty look, full of sexual promises. Zayn finds his hand inching towards his bulge in his trousers, palming himself outside the rough fabric.

"Now, Mr Malik. Is there something you want?" Lucky Ni rotates his hips against his pole, letting out soft "ah's" and "ngh's", arousing Zayn even more. His clear bright eyes are hooded, like he's enjoying himself. "Do you want me out of me uniform?"

" _Fuck_ yes," Zayn rasps out. Even a pornstar has his limits. The blond winks at him before his shucks his only clothing away, revealing his naked length to Zayn's hungry eyes. He's quite large, to Zayn's delight, and half-hard - double bingo.

"Been watching some of your films, Mr Malik," Lucky Ni strides over to the horizontal pole, bracing his arms, bending them back, against the cold metal surface. Then, without a warning, he lift himself up and spins halfway, displaying his taut arsehole.

Zayn finds himself entranced, walking towards the naked performer.

"Wann' feel your tongue against me," the stripper continues as Zayn's hot breath fans over his entrance. "Fuckin' need to feel you. You bought me for tonight, Mr Malik. I'm  _all_ yours."

"Isn't this bad work etiquette for the dancers?" Zayn flicks his tongue across the outer ring of muscles, garnering a breathy sigh/moan from the blond. "Against the politics and shite?"

"'M a part-time hooker anyways," he turns around on the metal bar, looking at Zayn upside down. "Most strippers who work here are like me, didn't you know that?"

"Considering-" Zayn buries his hand into the petit bloke's blond hair, tugging at it hard. "-I'm not a stripper, unless it's a roleplay video, I haven't a clue. And like you said, you're mine for tonight."

Zayn slides Lucky Ni off of the damned thing, crashing his lips down to the dancer's right away. There's no hesitation, really. Kissing is part of foreplay for Zayn in his works. The blond moans shamelessly, his hips rutting up against Zayn's leather-clad thigh. Grinning, Zayn stills the other boy, his fingernails digging into the porcelain skin. He accepts his order and stays still, waiting for Zayn's next move.

"Have you handcuffs here?" Zayn all but purrs into the exotic dancer's ear, his large hand caressing half his face easily.

"Someone's got a bondage kink," Lucky Ni jerks his head in direction of the drawer next to the bed. Zayn returns with a pair of handcuffs and without any warning, he pushes the blond towards the pole, locks his wrists together behind the metal and clicks the restraints around the thin wrists.

"I'm all bound up and naked. This looks like a beginning of a really bad porn flick," the Irishman jokes, his flushed cheeks saying otherwise. "Tell me, are you here to rediscover all your kinks, Mr Malik?"

"No, I intend to ravage your body."

"God, I should've known better than taking an all-nighter from a pornstar. You know how to woo a man with his words," the dancer grinds his hips up, letting out delicious little moans. "Have you any kinks I should know about?"

"You have just discovered my cuffing kink... and Irishman kink." Zayn rubs his rough hands over Lucky Ni's (he's enough money to know his real name, fuck it. Actually, fuck  _him_ ) very hard length.

"Fuck me hard, like I'm one of your assigned partner," Ni tries to fuck into Zayn's hand. God, he knows he's a pornography actor, right? "I've an arse that can't wait to be acquainted by your thick, monstrous dick."

"Is dirty talk required to become a stripper? Oh wait," Zayn finds his fingers move on their own accord, towards the dyed-blond's round bum and grips it hard. "I think I can upgrade you."

"'M also a hooker, in case you haven't noticed," Ni raises his hand so that they're above his head. Zayn would be lying if he said his dick didn't do a standing ovation right there and then. "Kinda goes in package and the tip is sweet." The dancer doesn't bother covering up the sexual undertone.

"You're naked," the porn actor states the obvious. "Do you want to see me without any clothes on up close and personal? I know I'm not getting paid for this but looks like I'm paying for _your_ body."

"Hmm, big words. Are they all you got?" The Irishman ruts his hips in a rhythm Zayn can't hear, his breaths ragged. Maybe hookers come on command, Zayn thinks to himself. "It's been at least an hour yet you haven't touched me in the right places."

"Ni," one syllable is all it takes for the stripper-slash-prostitute to become rock hard again. "I'm a pornstar, babe. I intend to play with my partners before getting to the good parts." His rough hand smooths the hair that's sticking out in all directions.

Without any warning, other than a cocky smirk that seems to be etched into the pornstar's face, Zayn kneels in front of the Irishman and pretty much engulfs his pale dick. Ni curses oh-so-colourfully, having a warm, wet body part called a mouth around his hard and leaking dick being the main reason. The darker-skinned lad only hums against the skin, like he knows exactly what he's doing (duh) and his tapered fingers ghost over to his slightly puckered entrance. The dancer lets out a breathy "yes", letting Zayn know he likes being prepped before the actual thing. Zayn guesses the part-time prostitute won't mind being lube-less but when he tries to poke his forefinger in, the blond slaps his hand away. Sighing, Zayn slicks his fingers - which is hard to do with his only sight being Ni's pale abs - and probes the hole again.

Zayn soon discovers that his all-nighter is very tight, _sinfully_ tight, and moans around his mouthful, both intentionally and unintentionally. Ni is very responsive, his throaty moan getting him even harder, if that was even possible. Soon, he pushes in another digit in, met by some sort of resistance but he admits liking long foreplays. Lucky Ni (Zayn thinks for the hundredth time that hour it's really an _Irish_ stage name. Lucky, as in Luck of the Irish, right?) rocks his hips back and forth, fucking into Zayn's hand and fucking himself on the lubed fingers.

And Ni seems to be so close to the edge because his beautiful face scrunches up from absolute pleasure before he gushes into Zayn's waiting throat, some dribbling out of his mouth. He knows this, it's a drill, and just swallows the load whilst looking into Ni's face. He also pulls his fingers out, deciding he should show how a pornstar _does it_.

"Wha' are you, _oh_." Zayn smirks, flipping the small blond around - well, spin since he's delectably cuffed to the stripping pole - and licks a fat stripe up from the base of his balls to the puffy and abused entrance. Ni doesn't hold back with his filthy moans, drawn out long too, and rocks his arse back against the actor's face. Now, if the situation was different - say, having the bottle-blond straddling his chest and all - there would be face-riding involved, yup. Zayn doesn't hesitate from pushing his tongue in, as far as it can, and fuck the other lad with it. Part of Zayn wishes he got that free tongue-piercing on the first day of his work (yes, he means the first day he filmed his first video) but that's a past. He needn't the stupid metal ball to please others. To prove his internal scoff, he curves his tongue up, grazing the tip past the bump, also called a man's prostate, and smirks against the skin when the Irish lad curses. He continues to tongue-fuck his all-nighter, occasionally jabbing at the prostate. He only starts to stimulate the bundle of nerves once the other's pale dick curves up again, fattening and hardening from being used like this. Only then he adds two fingers, proper jabbing at the prostate.

Ni comes quickly after that.

"Wan' ta feel your dick inside me now," the voice is _so_ fucked out, like Ni hasn't any energy left after two mind-blowing orgasms. Zayn's sure the blond's never come twice within quarter-hour period. Zayn's more than happy to oblige.

Without wasting anytime, the pornstar spins the cuffed-dancer around and lifts the smaller lad by his thighs, wrapping the porcelain legs around his waist. It's a lot of work to fuck someone in this position but the actor's hornier than he's ever been. He does a quick job with ridding himself of his clothes and lubing himself up (he also is very certain fucking without a condom is against the rules but he only lives one life, right?) and pushes in straightaway. 

Now, Zayn's a well-known (one of the small number of) bisexual kind in his world. So Ni didn't exactly expect him to have wonderful knowledge of gay sex. Sure, there's about half-million gay porn videos under the tag "Zayn Malik" (Zayn wonders himself why he hasn't changed his name in exchange of a stage name) and about half-dozen with other famous pornstars like Jake Bass but shit. The blond never thought the day he gets fucked by the person he's been fantasising about would become a reality.

"So fucking tight you are," Zayn purrs into the blond's ear, which is quicker than half a cockrub to get Ni (whose real name is Niall) hard again. Yes, he's over-sensitive from what would qualify as cumplay but he likes this. He likes being roughened by Zayn, how he's driving forcibly into his prostate, like he knows what he's doing. He likes how the darker skinned hand is rubbing in circles inside his thighs, teasing him on purpose. No, he can't be that lucky.

"Wanna come for me again, pet?" The older bloke's voice is silken, with underlying tones of sexual promises. Reminding him who's in charge. Couple more thrusts and Niall can feel his orgasm building up and he wants to hold it a while longer. "So tight, like a virgin. You don't prep yourself before shows, do you?"

"No..." His voice is fucked out and raspy, and tad bit whiny. "But I just might, SHIT!"

It's messy, how Niall spurts in four long streams of release and he practically screeches out the actor's name. Thank God the rooms are soundproof. Zayn only smirks, rotating between quick, hard strokes and slow, measured strokes. It doesn't take long before him to reach his high, mainly due to the contracting walls around his dick.

Zayn pulls out lazily, about half-minute after he's completely spent, and doesn't bother with his clothes. Rather, he only pulls on his leather trousers, just to pull out his fags. He does a quick job at locating his lighter and lights the cig up. It doesn't take a lot for the small room to be filled with smells of burnt substance and smoke.

"Want one?" Niall refuses. It's required for all the performers to stay healthy until they retire, which is around 35 for his job. Well, the primary one, at least. "Shame, but you're allowed this, ri'?" Zayn takes in a lungful of smoke before pressing his plump lips to the other's, nudging them open then transferring the smoke. Niall moans. he fucking moans at the taste of booze and smoke he's getting from Zayn.

"Is this jus' one night kind of thing?" Lucky Ni asks Zayn as he goes through his second fag. The way he says it is so vulnerable. Open. Honest. "I know you're famous and got a busy schedule..."

"Niall, why don't you come to my photoshoot at the London Studio? I promise you won't be disappointed."

 

**Author's Note:**

> CLIFF-HANGER, HAHAHA.  
> Chrissy is evil, yes she is. (Don't ask why I said that in third-person)


End file.
